


Patching Up

by ceemobster



Series: What Comes with Loving the Bat [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-22 04:43:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7420384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceemobster/pseuds/ceemobster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Like any regular couple, sometimes Bruce and Clark fight. Unlike any regular couple, they have impressionable little detectives to worry about when they do.</p><p>Damian notices that his father hasn't been himself lately and it is up to him to make things right. The fate of the city depends on him now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Multi-mission

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I’m not even going to try to stick to any particular continuity. Cass’ alias isn’t specified, so whether she’s Black Bat or Batgirl or Orphan is open to interpretation, I guess. Barbara is Oracle. Tim is part of the Teen Titans. Aaand that’s it. You can pretty much make your own assumptions about everything else. Some things may be confusing if you haven't read part 1, so you should totally go do that, y'know, if you haven't.

"... always have to be so damn unreasonable?"

"I'm the unreasonable one? Bruce, you could've easily..." A pause. "You know what? I think this is a conversation for another day."

Silence, then a cough. "Good. I have better things to do."

Damian hurriedly scrambled halfway down the tree and vaulted off it. He landed behind the hedge bush just in time, his figure hidden from the superpowered alien flying out his father's bedroom windows.

Once again, his attempt at figuring out why his father and Superman were fighting had ended with little to no result. Damian kicked the bush in frustration, his leg protruding through the other end. Why was it that every time he had just managed to position himself at hearing distance, they decided to end their conversation? It was absurd and infuriating, and he didn't know if he could stand any more of it.

He leaped out from behind the hedge bush a few moments later, sure that Superman was gone and his father was nowhere in sight. Titus, who had been sitting watch under his tree, barked and jogged towards him at his beckoning. "We're hitting a wall here, Titus," Damian whispered, scratching his companion behind the ears.

"Wall?"

Jumping a little, Damian quickly turned towards the source of the voice. Cassandra peeked out from behind a spiral topiary, not three feet away from where he was standing. Titus ran towards her, barking excitedly, and she bent down to pet him on the head.

Damian cleared his throat. "How long have you been there?" he asked, masking his surprise of Cassandra's presence behind a moderately level voice. She was perhaps the only person capable of sneaking up on him, and that both impressed and annoyed him.

Cassandra only shrugged.

"I'm trying to figure out why father and the alien are fighting," Damian admitted.

Cassandra looked up at the open windows Superman had flown through and huffed. Not rewarding Damian with a verbal response, she then cartwheeled her way to the front porch instead. He had a feeling that she was silently chiding him.

When Cassandra spoke again, it had nothing to do with Damian's previous activity. "Dinner," she said, climbing up the front steps.

Damian followed her, brushing off the leaves and twigs sticking to his body as he walked. "Are you staying? Are you going on patrol with us tonight?"

Cassandra stopped at the doorway and gave him a curious look. "Need me?"

"We could always use an extra hand." There hadn't been any significant crisis in the city as of late, and Damian knew that Cassandra had her own patrol routine, but he actually liked having her around. The fact that her stay at the manor was sporadic at best made him seize every opportunity to keep her there. "I'm sure father would like for you to stay."

Cassandra seemed to consider it. "Maybe, but..." She pointed a finger up and a little to the side, which Damian understood was the general direction of his father's room on the second floor. "Not helping with that," she finalised.

Damian rolled his eyes. "Tt."

Cassandra ended up on patrol with Damian and his father that night, and Damian was glad he had asked, because her presence seemed to improve his father's mood a bit. That was not to say that he was back to normal. The Batman was still distracted, even if only in an offhand way. It did not make him careless or incompetent, his actions were fortunately still as efficient as ever, but his mannerism was a little... unusual. He would say things that he normally wouldn't, would become consumed in his own musings. Whatever fight he'd been having with the alien since they had come back from a League mission several days ago was clearly bothering him. Damian found himself exchanging glances with Cassandra every once in a while, acknowledging their mentor's slightly abnormal idiosyncrasies.

The night consisted of three attempted robberies and one attempted kidnapping, all of which were little trouble for the trio. They retired to the manor at around 3 a.m., somewhat tired but barely hurt.

"You two did very well tonight," Batman commented as they climbed out the batmobile. "You showed bravery and good judgement, which was _expected_ of you."

There it was again. Damian and Cassandra shared a look.

Batman pulled his cowl off and walked ahead of them. "I'm going to... shower."

"Father," called Damian, his voice coming out a little more wary than he’d thought it would.

His father stopped and turned around. "Yes," he replied with a tilt of his head, eyes looking distant.

Damian frowned. "Are you alright?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" His father frowned back at him, eyebrows scrunched together in what seemed to be genuine confusion.

Damian turned to look at Cassandra, who suddenly decided to find her own gloves fascinating. He narrowed his eyes at the lack of support. "Never mind. I'm heading straight to bed," he muttered and stalked off.

* * *

An hour or two after brunch, when Damian was reading on the patio, Cassandra tapped him lightly on the shoulder. He understood the gesture for what it was; an announcement. She was leaving.

"I suppose I can't convince you to at least let Pennyworth drive you wherever it is that you go to?"

Cassandra smiled and ruffled his hair.

"Hey," Damian protested, but did not duck away or try to stop her. "So, you're no longer upset with me?"

"Wasn't upset," Cassandra said, shrugging.

"But you disapproved," he retorted. "I'm just worried about him, alright? You saw what I'm talking about, he's distracted. He can’t afford to be distracted!"

"He's fine."

"He _seems_ fine, but he's not! I need to know why they're fighting so I know how to _fix_ it."

"His business," Cassandra replied curtly.

"The city, maybe the _world_ , hinge-"

" _His_ business," she repeated, assuming a final tone.

Damian glared at her, but could not argue further. "Tt."

It would be nice to find someone to agree with him, nicer still if it was Cassandra, but Damian knew better than to ask her for help. He let her go with a soft "Be back soon" and she waved goodbye in response. He was about to get back to his book when Pennyworth called him inside. Apparently, the zucchini brownies had finally cooled down.

Damian was sitting at the breakfast bar with a plate of brownies in front of him when he heard the hum of his father's car engine. He glanced at the digital clock on the counter, which flashed _03:20 p.m_. That’s odd, his father did not usually return from work until 6 at the earliest. Damian immediately spun around in his stool and faced the archway of the kitchen.

His father appeared only a short moment later, looking slightly dishevelled. "Cocaine at G.U.," he said as soon as he saw Damian, without prologue or any further explanation. He took a glass from a cabinet and filled it with ice water from the refrigerator dispenser.

Damian swallowed the piece of brownie in his mouth. "I'd appreciate a little more narration."

"Cocaine and some other unidentified substances are making rounds at the university and surrounding area," his father replied. "Oracle sent me the files. Said they’re not light, amateur concoctions, which means a supplier with both skills and fund."

Damian thought for a moment, recalled the drug syndicate they had busted the previous week. "Leftover from the cartel?"

"I thought so at first, but no. Their product was relatively cheap, low purity, nothing like this one." His father downed the water in one swig and loosened the knot of his tie with his free hand.

"Anything else?"

"No. Barbara has plans in Blüdhaven for the next few days, so I told her we'd handle it."

Damian nodded firmly. "We can handle it."

"I'll be in the cave."

His father had only taken one step when Pennyworth’s voice stopped him. "Sir!" the butler called out from some place unseen. Damian could hear his footsteps approaching, rapid and hurried. "Sirs, you might want to switch on the news," he blurted out when he reached the kitchen.

Both Damian and his father frowned, but immediately reached for the remote. His father got there first and turned on the flat screen mounted on the wall.

They didn't even need to listen to the newscaster, the headline at the bottom of the screen told all they needed to know. _Riddler escapes from Arkham_. His father slammed the empty glass down on the counter, miraculously without breaking it, and left the room without another word.

Heaving an annoyed sigh, Damian slid off his stool and followed suit. _Great_. How was he supposed to juggle busting a drug ring, capturing the Riddler, _and_ investigating his father's fight with Clark Kent all at once?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tim will feature heavily in the next chapter.  
> Reviews/comments are always welcome.


	2. Covert Operation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is in Tim's POV.

The call from Bruce had been unexpected, and the job that it entailed was a distraction, but it wasn't entirely unwelcome. After all, Tim could not say that he wasn't at least a little bit curious of... the state of things at the manor. He had only heard of the news from Dick, and even though he would only be staying for several days, he was hoping to get a glimpse of it himself.

So when he heard Clark's voice along with Bruce's from inside the manor as he was walking up to the front porch, he considered himself lucky. It did not last long, however.

Tim stopped several feet away from the large double doors. One of them was slightly ajar, so he could just make out the conversation going on inside. At least that was what he'd thought it was. But both Bruce and Clark were raising their voices and every other word was punctuated with acerbity, Tim concluded that what he was hearing was too confrontational for a conversation.

They were having a fight, he realised a second too late, as the doors were pulled open roughly, revealing the two men on the other side.

"Hi, Tim," Clark greeted, regarding him with a tight smile.

Tim swallowed. "Hi?" He didn't mean to make it sound like a question, didn't know why it came out that way.

Bruce was standing a few steps behind Clark, his hands behind his back. Tim observed that he was staring at Clark's back like it had terribly offended him.

"I was just... leaving," Clark said, sounding a little lost.

Tim could not muster any response other than an awkward "Oh".

The three of them stood in silence for five more seconds at most, and in those five seconds Tim went through all plausible exits in his mind. He could turn around and just walk away, maybe they'd be too confused or preoccupied to stop him. He could walk around them and head inside, perhaps with an excuse of having to get to work immediately. Actually, he could walk around them and head inside without saying anything at all, and hope they wouldn't care. He also had his grappling hook in his backpack, maybe he could hoist himself up to the second floor and jump in through a window.

But before he could make a decision, Clark moved, stepping through the threshold. He turned around to face Bruce and the two men exchanged a look so hostile Tim had to look away. He couldn’t help thinking that he should have gone with the grappling hook.

And then Clark was suddenly gone, leaving only a breeze in his wake. Tim searched the late afternoon sky for a few moments. Nothing.

The silence was broken by Bruce clearing his throat. "Thank you for coming."

Tim blinked once. Did Bruce just _thank_ him? For coming? He hadn't even started with whatever it was he had been called for and Bruce was already thanking him. Something was definitely not right.

"You sure this won't interfere with whatever you currently have on your plate?" Bruce continued despite Tim's lack of response. "Your team?"

"They'll survive," Tim quickly replied, recovering from his stupor. "It's only a couple of days, right?"

Bruce nodded. "I have to make a phone call, I'll meet you at the cave in ten."

Tim made his way to his old room, not surprised to find that it had been prepared. He dropped his backpack in the middle of the floor and threw himself onto the bed. Ten minutes. Perhaps he should make a phone call of his own. Maybe Dick was wrong and Bruce and Clark weren't actually... dating? They hadn't exactly looked like a couple out there. But fights were supposed to regularly happen in a relationship, right? He should know, he had gone through many with Steph. And Kon. Perhaps this was just one of those.

Regardless, Dick would want to know about this, and maybe he could get some answers in return. Tim fished his phone out of his pocket and quickly pulled up the contact list. He never got the chance to press Dick's name, however.

"Drake." The voice that Tim knew all too well came from the doorway.

He sighed, cursing himself for having forgotten to close the door. It seemed that telling Dick would have to wait. He sat up on the bed and turned to face his younger brother.

Damian stood tall, as tall as the little brat could, arms crossed over his chest, eyes hard. "Father's expecting you." He looked displeased, as he always seemed to when Tim was around, but not surprised, which meant that Bruce had been prudent enough to tell him of Tim's arrival.

"He said ten minutes. Has it been ten minutes already?"

Damian scoffed. "He didn't call you here to lie around in bed, much as you probably need it."

* * *

Tim was tasked with data analysis and background checks, which was more or less expected. It was a newly emerged drug ring, mostly cocaine, and Bruce had already deduced that it might be related to the Irish mob. Tim really did not have that much to do. In fact, he figured that the only reason Bruce had asked for help was because he and Damian had more pressing matters to attend, namely Riddler's escape from Arkham the previous day.

"Questions?" Bruce asked after giving Tim the run down. He got up from the chair in front of the computer, its numerous screens shone bright with files and GPS feeds that Tim would study for the next couple of days.

Tim took the recently vacated seat and shook his head. "Shouldn't take long to locate the lab. Just need to trace their traffic."

"Right." Bruce nodded. "Let me know if you need more leads, I can make time to plant a mic or two in one of the pubs."

"That's unnecessary for now," Tim said, shrugging. "I can extrapolate from security feeds just fine."

"You better deliver, Drake," Damian said from somewhere behind them, to which Tim didn't bother to respond.

Bruce's phone rang in his hand, creating a ripple of echoes through the cave. "I have some jittery investors to schmooze," he said, frowning at the screen.

Tim watched from his seat as Bruce ascended the stairs, hoping Damian would follow but was left disappointed.

"You don't have to monitor my activities, I promise I'll ha-"

"You have to help me," interjected Damian.

It took Tim a while to register that Damian had just asked for help. _His_ help. The day seemed to only get stranger. "I _am_ helping you," said Tim curtly. He wasn't sure if Damian was talking about the case, but he honestly could not think of anything else that could have prompted the request.

"I'm not talking about the case, idiot."

Tim sighed and swivelled in the chair, finding Damian sitting on the cot pushed up against the right wall, feet dangling off the floor. "Calling me names really isn't doing you any good."

"It's father," Damian said, completely ignoring Tim's jab. _Huh_.

Tim waited a while for Damian to continue, but it did not seem to be happening. "Are you going to spit it out in the near future? Because I have work to do." It was extremely out of character for Damian to beat around the bush and Tim was having trouble wrapping his mind around it.

"He's... distracted," Damian finally said. "He and Kent have been fighting."

Tim nodded, slowly, carefully. "Yeah, I saw, when I arrived."

"We have to stop it."

"How?"

"That's why I need your help, Drake," Damian spat. "Utilise that famous deduction skill of yours."

Tim couldn't help staring at his brother. Was that a _compliment_? Had he been thrown into an alternate reality at some point and not realised it? "Alright..." he drawled. "Do you know why they're fighting?"

Damian huffed. "No. I tried listening in a couple times, but they just stopped talking every time I got close."

"Well of course." Tim shrugged. "You can't hope to sneak up on Superman."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Damian said, looking thoroughly offended.

Tim frowned, thoroughly confused. "Super hearing, Damian."

"I know, but I was silent. Always."

 _Oh_. _Oh no_. Tim honestly almost felt sorry for his younger brother. "He's _Superman_ ," he spoke slowly, just shy of spelling his words out. "He can hear your heartbeat from _Metropolis_."

Tim watched as Damian's face transformed from anger, to confusion, to anger again. _Oh no_. "Have you tried other methods? Plant a microphone, maybe? A recording device?" he asked, hoping to distract Damian from his inner turmoil.

"I can't believe... He knew— _they_ knew, and they didn't even try... Didn't even care..."

"Asked you a question, Robin," he spoke over Damian's muttering to himself.

It took a while, but Damian eventually acknowledged the conversation again. "No," he admitted. "Didn't think I needed it. Didn't know they eve-"

"Okay, so th-"

"Unbelievable!"

"Hey, Damian," Tim called, snapping his fingers, trying to pull his brother back to reality. Damian seemed ready to explode and he really didn't want to have to clean up after Bruce's mess. "Have you tried bringing it up to Bruce? Actually asking him?"

"Are you _delusional_?" spat Damian. "That wouldn't lead anywhere."

"Fair enough," Tim admitted. He knew Bruce, and Bruce would never share about his romantic troubles so easily, not even to his son. In fact, he did not share about his troubles, period. "Alright, let's take a few steps back,” said Tim. “Do you really want to get involved in this? It _is_ their business, Damian, and if he hasn't told you..." He shrugged.

"We need to fix this, Drake," Damian said, firm and absolute. “And if Kal did father wrong, he needs to _pay_.”

The threat was what anyone would expect from Damian, but _Kal_? Clark’s real first name sounded so effortless coming out of his mouth, Tim noted, like it had slipped out subconsciously. At the moment, however, Tim was more concerned of Damian’s use of the first person plural pronoun ‘we’. Damian seemed to have assumed that they were a team on this, but he was not sure if he was on board. "I suppose... there's a way," Tim said despite himself. Alright, so maybe he was also a little bit curious. He blamed it on the detective that Bruce had nurtured in him.

"Are you going to spit it out in the near future?" Damian mocked.

"What time are you going out with Bruce tonight?"

Damian glanced at the clock on one of the computer screens. "In four hours or so."

"Okay. Tell me where to plant the bugs."

Damian's eyes widened and he slid off the cot. "They won't find out?"

"Not if I'm careful."

"His hearing," said Damian. He had one hand on his chin, looking deep in thought, and Tim tried not to laugh at how comical the brat looked. "If it's as powerful as you said... What about the hum of the devices? The frequency they operate in? Can he... sense it?"

Tim smiled in approval. "Well, at least you're quick to catch on, y'know, once the obvious has been made... obvious." Damian glared at him, but that only made him grin wider. "Yes, technically speaking, he can hear the hum of the devices, just like he can hear the hum of any electrical device. The key is that he doesn't listen, doesn’t look for it. He has a way of filtering out sounds, he'll go crazy if he listens to everything. In a building of numerous air conditioners and televisions and computers and routers and lamps, he won't notice."

Damian narrowed his eyes. "And you know this for a fact?"

"Bruce told me a few things," said Tim. "Also did some research of my own. It might help if you had small lead boxes at your disposal, but I don’t think it’s crucial."

"I know he can't see through lead."

"Never said you didn't."

"Can he hear through it?"

Tim shrugged. "I honestly don't know. I bet Bruce does."

"Tt."

"Look, I have mics already synced to my laptop we can use. Designed them myself, Bruce won’t know they’re there.” Tim swivelled back around and began typing. "But I need to work on this first. Just tell me where they usually have these fights, and I'll set things up when you two are out."

" _Fine_ ," Damian retorted. The sound of his angry footsteps bounced off the floor. "Father's room and the library. Sometimes the main hallway, too."

"Got it."

"... could plant one on father," Damian muttered under his breath as he climbed up the stairs leading to the main house.

"We can't wire the Batman, Damian."

"I know! I'm _not_ stupid, Drake."

* * *

"Congratulations on a successful night, gentlemen and lady."

Lady? Tim swivelled around in his chair to see what Alfred was talking about. Alfred had been on the comm with Bruce and Damian throughout their quest to capture the Riddler, but Tim had mostly been focused on his own work, only checking with Alfred every once in a while to make sure he hadn't been needed.

He watched the three armour-clad heroes approach from the batmobile. Cassandra pulled her cowl off and smiled at him, sweet and simple, the usual. He waved and smiled back. Damian looked irritated for some reason, but then he caught Tim's eyes and tilted his head. Tim answered his unspoken question with a very subtle nod. Bruce looked grim with his cowl on, which wasn't out of the ordinary even if he had just returned from a successful mission. He quickly and unceremoniously undressed to the undersuit and went up to the main house without a word.

"I suppose there is no patching up required tonight?" asked Alfred.

Cassandra shook her head, while Damian rolled his eyes and began grumbling. "Unnecessary" and "just fine without" were the only phrases Tim caught.

"Alright, what's going on?" Tim asked, then took a swig of his coffee. There was plenty caffeine in his system already, but he had a feeling that more was needed to get him through whatever Damian had to say. "Riddler's back in Arkham, so why are you grumbling obnoxiously instead of strutting obnoxiously?"

Damian glared at him. "Of course you didn't care enough to even check the news, let alone get on the comm."

"You know I was busy. With the job Bruce gave and er..." Tim sipped on his coffee, this time to avoid finishing his sentence, conscious of Alfred and Cassandra. "And for the record, I asked Alfred to tell me if I was ever needed."

"So Pennyworth didn't tell you then."

Tim turned to Alfred. "Tell me what?"

"I believe Master Damian is rather irritable because Superman came to help them, Sir," he said, raising his brows. "Which I find quite peculiar, considering that it saved them many troubles."

“Clark was there?”

Damian kicked his boots off, sending them flying to opposite directions. “We would’ve done just fine without any unsolicited reinforcement!” he yelled, though it didn’t seem to be directed to anyone in particular. Not anyone in the cave, at least. Tim watched him stomp up the stairs and disappear through the entrance.

“I suppose tea would placate them, if only slightly,” Alfred sighed, getting up from his seat. “Miss Cassandra, would you care for some?”

Cassandra shook her head.

“Very well. Master Tim, do try to get some sleep.”

Tim would rather not lie to Alfred, so he only smiled in response. It earned him a reproving look. The butler left Tim and Cassandra after that, leaving the same way Bruce and Damian had, but without the attitude.

"You’re helping him," said Cassandra when they were alone.

Tim blinked. “Huh?”

“Damian.”

“Oh.” So Cassandra knew. Tim doubted Damian had told her about their little collaboration, so he figured she must have worked it out on her own, probably from that silent exchange they’d had earlier. “Well,” Tim began, rubbing the back of his neck. “Do you know why they’re fighting?”

Cassandra shrugged. “Their business.”

“I know, I know,” Tim said, holding his hands up weakly. “I shouldn’t pry.” He was feeling a little ashamed of himself now, but what was done _was_ done, and he wasn’t about to take down the microphones he had set up.

Cassandra looked like she was contemplating something, but in the end only shook her head disapprovingly. “Night,” she said, as she, too, climbed up the stairs to the main house.

“Night, Cass.”

Tim chugged his coffee and turned back to the computer. If he pulled an all-nighter, he could probably triangulate the location of the lab before afternoon, maybe even map out the distribution channels on top of that. Then he could go back to his apartment and just send Damian the recordings that the microphones fed to his laptop. He wouldn’t even have to listen to them. Because Cassandra was right, he really shouldn’t pry.

“...”

Who was he kidding? He was definitely going to listen to the recordings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter may take a while to be posted, I'm still not sure if I want to go back to Damian's POV or stay in Tim's.  
> Anyway, reviews/comments are always welcome.


	3. Missing Evidence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. It took much longer to get this chapter posted than I thought it would. Length is more or less the same as the previous chapters, though, so I can't blame it on that. Really, it's just life, getting in the way. This was a little rushed, so apologies for the less-than-satisfactory conclusion. And the odd sentences. And maybe even some grammar mistakes to add into the mix. The next fic in the series is already in the draft, though, so there's that.
> 
> Hope it's still at least a little bit enjoyable!

> **Batshizz Cray – GROUP CHAT**  
>  **Timothy DW 00:12AM** Dick I was going to call you but figured I'd just say it here  
>  **Timothy DW 00:12AM** Bruce and Clark are fighting  
>  **Stephanie B 00:14AM** trouble in paradise??  
>  **D Grayson 00:14AM** what what what  
>  **D Grayson 00:15AM** TIMMY WHAT HAPPENED  
>  **D Grayson 00:15AM** TELL ME EVERYTHING  
>  **Timothy DW 00:19AM** Damian told me  
>  **D Grayson 00:20AM** lil D what happened  
>  **Damian Wayne 00:23AM** Settle down, Richard.  
>  **JT 00:24AM** thought this group was for discussing cases not gossiping  
>  **Stephanie B 00:25AM** nope, that's the one with bruce in it  
>  **Stephanie B 00:25AM** this one is strictly for gossiping  
>  **Damian Wayne 00:25AM** For once, I agree with Todd.  
>  **JT 00:27AM** you been snooping around again demon baby  
>  **JT 00:27AM** what did I tell you  
>  **D Grayson 00:28AM** steph is right please someone tell me what happened  
>  **Damian Wayne 00:29AM** What makes you think you're worth listening to, Todd?  
>  **D Grayson 00:29AM** timmy you at the manor  
>  **Timothy DW 00:30AM** Yeah, helping Bruce with some stuff  
>  **Timothy DW 00:30AM** But I don't know anything about it alright, Damian doesn't know much either  
>  **Stephanie B 00:32AM** it's probably nothing guys they've fought before  
>  **Stephanie B 00:33AM** like a LOT of times  
>  **D Grayson 00:34AM** yeaaah but it's kind of different now  
>  **Timothy DW 00:35AM** I'm off ok, I have work to do  
>  **D Grayson 00:36AM** ok good luck  
>  **Stephanie B 00:37AM** I'm sure it'll be fiiiiine  
>  **D Grayson 00:38AM** I hope sooo  
>  **Damian Wayne 00:40AM** I'm turning this off. Father and I are about to ambush Nygma.  
>  **D Grayson 00:41AM** ok good luck, be careful  
>  **D Grayson 01:01AM** you guys seeing the news?  
>  **Stephanie B 01:05AM** yep  
>  **D Grayson 01:06AM** does this mean they're not fighting? anymore??

* * *

Despite having gone to bed several hours after midnight, Damian managed to get up before 7. He had to admit, it wasn't as easy as it had used to be. Back then, with his mother and the vigorous training she had subjected him to, getting up with the sun had been the default. After living with his father, he seemed to have learnt to indulge in some of his vices. Sleeping until noon in the weekend was undoubtedly one of his favourites.

But today, Damian was a man on a mission. It was crucial that he woke up before his father did. He had seen Pennyworth bring two cups of tea to the library before he'd gone to bed, which could only mean one thing: Superman had come to the manor right after the gratuitous show of strength on the Riddler ambush. It was time to see if Drake lived up to the expectation.

Damian slammed Drake's door open, finding the room empty. He rolled his eyes. Of course. He should have known that Drake was still working, probably on his sixth cup of coffee since he had started. He really should take better care of himself.

"You ought to sleep every once in a while, Drake. One of these days I'll find you on the floor, dead of cardiac arrest," Damian said as he descended the stairs to the main section of the cave.

Drake, who had not seemed to move since the last time he'd seen him, did not look away from the computer, merely responded with a noncommittal grunt.

"Tt." Damian rolled his eyes. "Can you step away from that a moment? It's time to check the recordings. One in particular."

 _That_ caught Drake's attention. "Wait, already?" he asked, blinking rapidly, looking stupid. "But last night-"

"He was here," Damian cut in. "I don't know for how long, but he was. They were in the library, that's all I know."

"Oh. Wow. Alright. Give me ten, fifteen minutes to wrap this up."

Even though he was impatient, Damian could not argue that the mission had to come first. He spent some time refilling Bat-Cow's trough, and when that was done, went back up to the house to refill Alfred's and Titus' bowls. Drake later approached him with a steaming cup in hand and they both went up to Drake's room. Damian jumped onto the bed immediately while Drake pulled his laptop out of his bag.

"Alright, library, right?" Drake asked, joining Damian on the bed.

Damian was so anxious to listen to the recording, he did not even have the mind to snarl a retort about having to repeat himself. "Yes," he simply replied.

A few clicks later, a window showing what seemed to be the graphical representation of a sound wave was pulled up on the laptop screen. "You went back home around one thirty, so that should be..." Drake dragged a slider on the screen with his finger, "...here."

It was dead quiet for a few moments, until the slider reached a small spike in the graph and the speaker came alive with the creak of an old door being opened. Following that was what sounded like the drag of furniture, then a sigh. After that, it was quiet again for a while, the graph going flat for a length of time. Damian realised that he had been unnecessarily holding his breath and inhaled deeply. Drake took a sip of coffee beside him.

His father's raspy voice came with the next spike, a little distorted, but still unmistakably his father. "You can come in, farm boy."

There was a squeak and a swoosh, followed by the alien's voice. "You only call me 'farm boy' when you're mad at me, so I'm guessing you still are. Mad at me."

"Untrue," his father replied. "I sometimes call you 'farm boy' in bed, too."

Tim snorted at that. While it took Damian a moment to figure out what his father meant, he failed to rein in a disgusted groan when he did.

"But _you_ 're still mad at me," his father's voice continued, silencing them both. "Did you interfere with my work tonight as a way to emphasise your point?"

"Rao, no. If anything, it was a... peace offering." A sigh. "Bruce, you know I don't like you putting yourself in danger."

"Are you listening to yourself right now? I'm _Batman_ , Clark. Putting myself in danger is in the job description."

"Not when it's not necessary."

"Tea, gentlemen?" Pennyworth's voice broke in.

"Thank you, Alfred."

A slight clatter, then the click of a door being closed.

"And I suppose between the two of us, you're the better judge of what's necessary and what's not," Damian's father continued immediately after.

"Yes!" the alien groaned. "It wasn't just that last league mission, alright? That was just the breaking point, the culmination of my... disapproval. Of all your stupid, selfish, self-sacrificial stunts."

"Selfish _and_ self-sacrificial. Been practicing oxymoron to spice up your writing?"

"Will you stop being condescending just for a little while?"

The graph went flat again. Damian and Tim shared a look, knowing that they now had at least an idea of what the fight was about, even if the details were murky. There were still numerous spikes throughout the rest of the graph, though, so none of them made the move to shut down the recording.

"I'm sorry," his father's voice broke the silence.

A moment passed before the alien responded, and when he did, his voice was small. "You're... sorry?"

"Yes. I understand your concern and I appreciate you caring. Perha-"

"Of course I care, I lo-"

"I wasn't finished," Damian's father said hurriedly, though his voice later resumed a gentler tone. "I can't deny that my actions are sometimes brash. Perhaps I should be more trusting of my partners. Of you. But when I'm in the thick of it, all I can think of is 'What can _I_ do? How can _I_ make this better?' You have to understand that."

"I do. I get it. And I'm sorry, too. I never meant to underestimate or discredit you in any way. I just... If something happens to you... Bruce, I can't- I don't-"

"Hey. That mission went well. None of us got seriously hurt."

"I know, I ju-"

"Look, I'm tired. It's been a long day. Let's stop fighting."

A moment later, the alien laughed. "Sounds great." Then the wave was flat again.

"Well, there you go," said Drake, his clear voice a rude pull to the present. "You don't need to fix anything, they made up."

"No, wait. Look." Damian pointed at the spikes in the graph that the slider had not reached. There were still numerous, reaching high and low, spanning at least ten, fifteen more minutes. To Damian, it definitely seemed long enough for another round of arguments. "They're not done. We're not done."

"I think _we_ have heard enough."

"We're getting as much information as we can, Drake," he insisted.

Before Drake could argue further, the speaker came to life once more. "I thought you were tired," the alien said with a chuckle.

"I'm tired of fighting. And talking," Damian's father replied.

"Hm. So am I, actually."

Then there was a thud, like something heavy hit the floor. All that the speaker produced after that was some sort of rustling, which went on for quite a long while. Damian frowned. His father and Superman were obviously still in the room, that much he was certain. He would have heard it if the door had been opened again, or the window, for the matter. So what were they doing? The end to their conversation was a little unsettling, making him fear that they had somehow managed to stumble upon Drake's recording devices.

"What's happening?" asked Damian. He scooted closer to the laptop on Drake's lap, but his ears still failed to catch anything more than the low rustling.

"I don't know," Drake said, leaning forward as well. "They're still in there, that's for sure."

"Very helpful, Drake," Damian scoffed. "Could they possibly have found yo-"

Then his father's hum broke through the speaker, and Damian fell silent once more. "Yes," his father said, even though the alien had not said anything. More humming, more rustling, a soft groan. " _God_ , Clark... Ah..." A loud moan.

Damian was so focused on trying to figure out what was happening that he flinched in shock when Drake suddenly slammed the laptop closed.

"Alright, that's it! This espionage crap is over! I'm never doing this again!" Drake yelled. His face was red all over, like he had dunked it in boiling water.

"What the hell?" Damian yelled back. "They weren't finished there!"

"Oh, they weren't, alright. But we are."

"They were beginning to talk again!"

Drake clapped him on the shoulder. "Trust me, Damian, they weren't going to do any more talking. Not about the fight anyway." He violently shoved his laptop back into his backpack and zipped it shut. "Should've listened to Cass..."

"What on _earth_ are you not telling me, Drake?" Damian demanded. "Why is your face all red?"

Tim kicked his backpack, sent it sliding to the far end of the room, then jumped back on the bed. "Listen to me, alright? Just this time, please." He grabbed Damian's shoulders, shaking him slightly. "Promise me you won't try to spy on them again."

"What. The hell. Are you getting worked up about?"

Drake groaned exasperatedly in response. "Whatever. I'm taking down the microphones. Once Bruce wakes up, I'll sneak into his room and take down the ones in there, too," he muttered, already heading for the door. "And then I'm out of here."

Befuddled with having absolutely no clue of what had transpired, Damian could only stare at Drake's retreating back.

* * *

Later that morning at breakfast, he tried to broach the subject again once Pennyworth was out of earshot. Drake was having none of it, however, repeating again and again that he should trust him. Cassandra did not partake in the conversation much, merely grinned at every other sentence they said, looking like she knew something he did not, like she knew what Drake's cryptic comments meant. She probably did, which only served to frustrate Damian more. He hated being left out of the loop. He was about to start yelling at Drake, but then his father joined them, and he had no choice but to drop the conversation. He even helped keep his father and Pennyworth preoccupied when Drake went up to remove the rest of the recording devices.

That was not to say that he was happy with the conclusion to his investigation. There were still questions that needed answering, after all. If none of his siblings would be on his side going forward, then so be it. He would shoulder on, find a way. Perhaps he would even be direct and have a little talk with his father. Maybe with Superman, too. Starting with why _they_ had not been direct with _him_ and told him that they knew of his spying on them.

Of course, he still needed to figure out a way to get that question across without getting himself in trouble.

* * *

> **Batshizz Cray – GROUP CHAT**  
>  **D Grayson 10:10AM** guys at the manor, everything ok?  
>  **Timothy DW 11:08AM** Fine. I just left  
>  **Timothy DW 11:08AM** They've made up, don't worry  
>  **Damian Wayne 11:12AM** We don't know that for sure, Drake.  
>  **Timothy DW 11:13AM** Trust me, Damian. Just this once. You'll see  
>  **Timothy DW 11:13AM** They'll be fine the next time you see them I can guarantee that  
>  **D Grayson 11:14AM** I trust you tim  
>  **D Grayson 11:16AM** would love to hear some details tho  
>  **Stephanie B 11:17AM** second that  
>  **Timothy DW 11:17AM** No you don't. Trust me  
>  **Stephanie B 11:18AM** at least tell ME tim  
>  **JT 11:20AM** I sense what's happening here  
>  **JT 11:21AM** did somebody come across something they wished they hadn't  
>  **Timothy DW 11:22AM** You have no idea  
>  **JT 11:24AM** goddamn fucking called it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dick is responsible for the group chat name.

**Author's Note:**

> There will probably be only one more part in this little series to wrap things up. It will take me a while to get the conclusion fleshed out, but hopefully I can get it posted soon.
> 
> Thank you for all kudos and comments, they're greatly appreciated!


End file.
